As the 20th anniversary of my deployment to Iraq approaches next year, I’ve found myself revisiting memories I haven’t unpacked in quite some time. Time has a way of softening some edges while sharpening others. What once felt like disconnected moments now form a larger picture about service, diplomacy, humanity, and the complicated reality of war.
When most people think about Iraq, they think about firefights, explosions, politics, or the nightly news. Those moments certainly existed. But there were countless chapters in between that rarely make the documentaries or history books.
Those are the memories I find myself returning to.
I still remember turning 21 while deployed. Thousands of miles from home, chefs from India surprised me with a birthday cake. It was a simple gesture, but one I’ll never forget. In the middle of a war zone, strangers took the time to celebrate a milestone in my life. That moment reminded me that kindness doesn’t disappear simply because conflict exists.
I remember soldiers from Texas teaching me how to play Spades in between meal times during our 3rd shift guard duty. Between missions and long days, laughter found its way into the desert. We came from different backgrounds, different states, different stories, yet we became a team because circumstances demanded it and because friendship often develops in places you least expect.
We celebrated Hip-Hop nights, Salsa nights, and had celebrities show up on our Forward Operating Bases for meet and greets and concerts. For Kuwait & Taji it was artists like Drowning Pool, Paul Wall, Kid Rock, WWE megastars Vince McMahon and Paul Levesque.
I was so tied down to micromanagement I had missed plenty of opportunities with these meet and greets. What could’ve been if the opportunities presented itself, but that didn’t stop my dreams from coming true knowing where I stood with my politics.
One memory that has stayed with me was attending a correspondence dinner between the U.S. Army and the Iraqi Army as our medics completed part of their training mission. During that event, I had the opportunity to meet an Iraqi general.
Looking back, that experience says a great deal about the complexity of diplomacy.
Only a few years earlier, U.S. Army Private Jessica Lynch had been captured by forces loyal to Saddam Hussein’s regime during the 2003 invasion of Iraq. Those events remained fresh in the minds of many service members. Justice often felt incomplete, and emotions were understandably complicated.
Yet there we were, sharing a meal with members of an Iraqi military that was being rebuilt alongside coalition forces. It was a reminder that nations can change, governments can fall, and individuals should not always be judged solely by the actions of those who came before them.
War has a way of forcing you to live inside contradictions.
You can grieve those you’ve lost while hoping peace eventually wins.
You can remain vigilant while still recognizing the humanity of someone sitting across the table from you.
You can believe in justice without believing violence alone is the answer.
Those lessons have only grown stronger with time.
One of the most overlooked parts of military service during my era was serving under Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.
Looking back now, I realize how many people misunderstood the policy itself. The phrase “Don’t Tell” was intended to protect privacy, yet too often people became consumed with trying to expose others rather than allowing fellow soldiers to simply do their jobs with dignity. Instead of focusing on the mission, some were more interested in finding reasons to question someone’s identity.
Meanwhile, the rest of us kept climbing back into our trucks, pulling security, completing missions, and protecting one another.
That’s what mattered.
The mission didn’t care who you loved.
It cared whether you showed up.
Whether you had your battle buddy’s back.
Whether everyone made it home at the end of the day.
Those experiences changed how I view people today.
I’ve come to believe diplomacy isn’t weakness. It isn’t pretending history never happened. It’s acknowledging painful truths while still being willing to invest in a better future.
Violence can remove a threat.
It cannot build trust.
Relationships can.
Respect can.
Shared humanity can.
Two decades later, I also realize something else.
Some people never move beyond the narratives they’ve created about others. They become so invested in judging someone else’s journey that they fail to see the person standing in front of them. Whether it’s military service, identity, relationships, or personal growth, assumptions often become louder than understanding.
I’ve experienced that both overseas and here at home.
But Iraq also taught me that every person has a story the world may never fully understand.
Sometimes that story is told through shared meals.
Sometimes through a deck of cards.
Sometimes through protecting one another despite impossible circumstances.
As I reflect on twenty years since my deployment, I carry immense gratitude for those who served beside me, those we met along the way, and the lessons that continue shaping who I am today.
History remembers wars through battles.
Veterans often remember them through people.
And perhaps that’s where peace truly begins.
Thank you to every service member, coalition partner, civilian, interpreter, medic, and friend who crossed paths with me during that chapter of my life. Your impact continues to travel with me, twenty years later.
H.M. Gautsch
Combat Veteran | Storyteller | Believer that humanity can still outshine conflict.